


The Unforgettable Fire

by mariposaroja



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alpha Theseus Scamander, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Omega Newt Scamander, Righteous Theseus, Sibling Incest, Slow Burn, be warned
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-13 14:27:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17489714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariposaroja/pseuds/mariposaroja
Summary: Newt is expelled from Hogwarts when he’s fifteen, the same year that he gets his first heat.“This one is Zeus. I suggested that we call him Theseus, but mother overruled me on that one.”Involuntarily, a bark of laughter escapes him, startling the hippogriff, who Theseus could have sworn glares at him. “I would be offended, but I know how much you love the things, so I’ll take it as a compliment.”





	1. A Bittersweet Symphony

**Author's Note:**

> This idea got hold of me yesterday, and despite how much I wanted not to write it, I had to get it out of my head and thought that someone might as well read it. 
> 
> Yes, I am going to hell. Yes, I am deeply ashamed. The story chooses the author, and not vice versa! 
> 
> I have also never written a/b/o before, so apologies if I didn't get something quite right. 
> 
> That being said, enjoy!

Newt is expelled from Hogwarts when he’s fifteen, the same year that he gets his first heat.

Even though he never really liked school all that well anyway, never really fit in, Theseus can tell from the few letters he receives from his brother that Newt is struggling to get used to life outside of Hogwarts, since he had finally adjusted to being there in the first place. Though only an auror in training, he’d used every contact he had made at the Ministry, as well as his alma matter, to prevent his brother’s expulsion. Alas, it all proved futile as the majority ruled overwhelmingly, and so Newt’s Hogwarts career ended two years prematurely.

Despite his turbulent couple of months, Theseus can still tell that something else has happened when he receives a rather brief and impersonal letter from his younger brother one Thursday morning. It takes a couple of days of imploring and a threat of a trip home for him to get Newt to disclose what’s bothering him.

He’s finally presented. And he’s an omega.

It’s nothing that Theseus couldn’t have predicted. Realistically, he knew that he was going to be the only alpha of the two Scamander children and while Newt could have very well presented as beta, Theseus knew deep down what would likely happen. But being an omega is nothing to be ashamed of, and he told his little brother as much. Omegas are just as, if not more, vital than alphas. Without omegas and their ability to carry pups, the numbers of their species would be dwindling substantially.

Still, he knows where Newt is coming from; the heats that are part and parcel of being an omega are both debilitating and sometimes humiliating if one didn’t religiously take suppressants. And that’s before one takes into account how certain alphas and betas tend to look down on them. Theseus, however, does not share their views.

Which is why he makes that trip home anyway, so that he might make Newt fully understand that he has no reason to be ashamed, to make him understand just how important and precious he is. He doesn’t bother with a reply to his brother’s letter, and instead heads directly for his family’s country home after leaving the office that evening. His mother is delighted, even if he sees the slightest hint of panic in her eyes when she sees him, greeting him with a kiss on the cheek as she informs him that he better be hungry. They’re having lamb.

“Always, mum,” Theseus assures her with a wide smile, so often missing home but being too busy for the most part to actually act on it. “I’d just like to see Newt first.”

But before he can even two steps, his mother is standing in front of him. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Newt has presented.”

“I know. That’s why I’m here.” Eleanora Scamander instantly looks horrified, and Theseus can’t help but laugh and roll his eyes. “Don’t worry, mother, my intentions are exclusively pure, I assure you.”

Even so, she stands her ground. “That may be so, but I still don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go up there. I’ve given him something to stop the heat, but his body is still changing, which as an alpha I’m sure you will be able to smell only too well. No,” she said with a shake of her head, “I’ll go and see if he’ll come down here to see you. At least then I can intervene if need be.”

Theseus is exasperated, running a hand through his now messy curls. “He’s my brother! I highly doubt that any scent of his would affect me so.”

His mother’s only response before she disappears up the stairs is a very ominous ‘you would be surprised…’

 

While he waits, he paced the kitchen, smiling as he took in all the photos that lined the walls that he hadn’t seen in so long; a photo of him grinning into the camera after he’d lost his first baby tooth, right at the front for the world to see; a picture of him standing in front of his mother and father in his shiny new Hogwarts robes that his mother had made him put on especially for the photo, taken on a random Tuesday morning in August; a picture of his grinning as he stared down at the Head Boy badge that was newly pinned to his chest…

And then there are the pictures of his brother.

Newt was never really a smiler, somehow managing to look like he was perpetually in pain whenever he was instructed to do so. But it is endearing in so far as it very much sums up his brother. Newt Scamander isn’t one for the limelight, preferring instead to stand back and let others shine while he quietly goes about his business in the background. His shyness consistently leads others to underestimate him, which is also a very big mistake. Newt hadn’t been one of Albus Dumbledore’s favourite students for nothing…

Sometimes, Theseus finds himself wishing that he and Newt had been closer in age, so that they weren’t always at completely different stages of their lives. So that they might have been friends as well as brothers. His musings on the matter, however, are interrupted when a sweet smell of apple and cinnamon reaches his nose, and with a smile he makes his way over to the oven to check on the pie that he hadn’t realised his mother had put in there.

To his confusion, he finds nothing but a piece of roasting lamb. Unsatisfied, Theseus looks around for the source for another minute, stopping only when he hears two sets of footsteps descending the spiral staircase in the corner, one more hesitant that the other. A grin spreads a cross his face the minute he lays eyes on his brother, so much taller than when he’d last seen him, but it drops significantly when the sweet smell becomes so overwhelming that it makes his hand, thankfully hidden away in his pocket, clench.

“Theseus,” Newt breathes shakily, quietly, as if he can’t quite believe that his brother is there, merely stepping closer to the older man rather than embracing him. Newt wasn’t exactly one for displaying affection.

Theseus was, but not now. Trying to hide his surprise at the discomfort he feels, he places a firm hand on Newt’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze instead of his usual hug. “Hello, little brother,” he says almost as easily as he always would, not willing to let his mother see that perhaps she had been right. She probably already knew. “Miss me?”

“Of course,” Newt replies automatically, hint of a blush creeping across his freckled cheeks that mark him as a Scamander more than anything else. He looks undeniably flushed, a little clammy, but for the most part whatever suppressant their mother had given him seems to be working well enough that otherwise there isn’t much of a difference. Not that he can tell, anyway. “How long are you staying?”

“A couple of hours. Then I have to get back to London for work tomorrow.”

“So I have enough time to show you the hippogriff hatchlings?”

The request takes Theseus by surprise, even though it shouldn’t. It’s actually quite reassuring, if he’s perfectly honest, that he hasn’t changed and is comfortable enough with Theseus to forget that his brother is an alpha, and he a newly presented omega. He feels rather than sees his mother’s gaze upon him, imploring him to find some excuse to say no, that he’s putting them both in a rather precarious position.

Theseus ignores it completely. He may be an alpha, but Newt is still his little brother. He would never lay a hand on him.

 

Transfiguring his suit and shoes into wellies, casual pants and a comfy jacket, he follows his brother down the long-worn path to the hippogriff enclosure. Well, _enclosure_ in a rather loose sense of the word; as creatures capable of taking flight, there was no real way of containing them without restricting their freedom entirely. Not that his mother nor Newt would ever allow such a thing.

They walk in silence for a couple of minutes, the open air diluting Newt’s scent to such an extent that Theseus has no problems in breathing in the fresh air that was so dearly lacking in London. Eventually, it is he who decides to break it.

“So how are you? How have things been going?”

“Good,” the younger man shrugs, eyes not straying from the path in front of them, “It’s different being away from Hogwarts, but at least I can now focus completely on my creatures. Mum says that if I can show that I would be able to control it, I can get a niffler. Wouldn’t that be amazing? I write to Dumbledore sometimes, and he said that I could have one of the Hogwarts-bred ones if I wanted. I think he still feels bad about not being able to change their minds…”

Theseus can’t help the grin that takes over his face, especially when Newt finally looks at him, wonderment in his eyes. Growing up with Eleanora Scamander as a mother, he had a natural affinity and respect for creatures, yet he still can’t hold a torch to his brother’s absolute adoration of all things weird and wonderful. Perhaps, he thinks not for the first time, he has more of his father in him. “I wish you luck with that one,” Theseus chuckles, “But I’m very happy that you’re happy.”

Merely fixing him with another bashful smile in response, Newt skips a couple of steps ahead, slowing only when he cautiously approaches a young hippogriff in their path. Although he probably needn’t have, as the creature immediately bows, pushing its head forward to be rubbed. Newt all too willingly obliges, smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as he looks back at his brother. “This one is Zeus. I suggested that we call him Theseus, but mother overruled me on that one.”

Involuntarily, a bark of laughter escapes him, startling the hippogriff, who Theseus could have sworn glares at him. “I would be offended, but I know how much you love the things, so I’ll take it as a compliment.”

“Oh dear… it wasn’t meant as one.”

Once again, he finds himself laughing. He and Newt have always been different, like chalk and cheese, but when his little brother was in the right mood he has a habit of making Theseus laugh constantly, with his little playfully barbed remarks. Bowing to the creature, which is difficult given how much taller he is, he waits for his cue before reaching out to stroke it, hand coming to rest almost side by side with Newt’s. “You know, it still feels odd that this isn’t my home anymore.” One thing he has told neither his mother nor his brother is that when he had first moved to London, he had been terribly homesick, lonely. London and the Ministry is great, but different, completely removed from everything he’d known at home and at Hogwarts.

Surprised, Newt pauses for a moment, unsure of what to say to that. While he is sensitive, fragile, he’s never been so good with speaking about emotions that don’t relate to animals. “You’re making a home for yourself. Your life is in London now. Have you…” he frowns, “have you found yourself a mate yet?” He isn’t entirely sure why he asked; he can’t smell anyone else, omega or beta, on him. But there is always a chance that he has his eyes on someone and, if so, they would be mad to refuse such a powerful and kind alpha as his brother.

Theseus smiles, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “No, not yet. I’m not actively looking at the moment.”

“I never want to be bonded to anyone.”

“You say that now,” Theseus says softly, “you never know when someone is going to come along and change your mind.”

But Newt is adamant. “I want to be free to travel the world, to see all those wonderful creatures I read about in their natural habitats.”

“Being bonded doesn’t mean that you can’t still do that.”

“Would you allow your omega to go travel the world without you? Without wanting to know where they are every hour of the day?”

“If that was what they truly wanted, “Theseus frowns, “You might even find someone with the same interests as you.”

“What about if you had your rut and your omega wasn’t there? Or if they had their heat and you weren’t there? And what about the pups?”

He tries to hide his surprise. “You don’t want pups?”

Looking away, Newt clenches his jaw tight, which is unlike him. “I want to be a beta. Then no one would care what I did. I was thinking… if I could just make it stop-“

Before he even realises what is happening, Theseus finds himself growling, startling both Newt and the hippogriff too, who scatters off instantly in the direction of the woods.

Newt’s instincts tell him that he should probably take a step back, remove himself from the situation and put some space between him and the alpha in front of him, but he finds himself rooted to the spot, especially when he sees the shock and confusion on his brother’s face. Heart suddenly hammering in his chest, he swallows hard, mouth suddenly as dry as the Sahara desert.

Theseus notices, sees it all. “Newt, I-“ pained, he shakes his head to himself, “I’m sorry. You should do whatever you want to do. It’s your body. But please- _please_ \- don’t do anything you’ll regret. You’re so young…”

He knows there’s nothing much to it, but Newt has never had an alpha snap at him before and it’s mildly terrifying. Theseus must realise as much, as when Newt merely gives a shaky nod in reply, lips pressed into a hard line so as not to betray his true feelings, the older man sighs and tentatively steps forward to wrap his arms around his little brother like he has done so many times before. Funnily enough, while Newt never really liked hugs before, this time feels like more of a comfort.

“I really am sorry, Newt. You know I would never hurt you. It’s just that alphas are meant to protect omegas, apparently even from themselves.”

“It’s okay,” he finally manages to say, “but can we head back now? It’s cold.” A shiver runs through him right at that moment, as if to prove his point. Though he isn’t entirely sure that it was caused by weather conditions.

“Of course,” Theseus assures him, but can’t help but feel that he’s rather mucked things up by scaring him like that. He isn’t exactly making a great case for other alphas… Guilt-ridden, he shrugs off his jacket and hands it to Newt, draping it over the younger man’s shoulders himself when he tries to hand it back. Eventually, Newt gives in and sticks his arms inside the sleeves, a little too long for him but incredibly warm, still holding Theseus’ body heat.

They walk the entire way home in complete silence.

His mother is going to kill him.


	2. Secret Smile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for every hit, kudos and comment on the last chapter ♥

Newt appears to do his best to pretend like nothing out of the ordinary has happened when they get back to the house and, much to Theseus’ astonishment, he actually succeeds. For all intents and purposes, it’s just your average- if admittedly rare- Scamander family dinner.

Except for the fact that Newt refuses to make eye contact with him, even if he’s subtle enough about it that it goes completely unnoticed by their mother. The thing is, Theseus doesn’t mind, because he knows that it’s nothing less than he deserves but the thought that his brother might be holding his tongue because he’s embarrassed, or because he doesn’t want to get him in trouble, makes him feel even worse.

Another opportunity to speak with Newt doesn’t present itself before he really has to head back to London, whether by coincidence or design, and he thinks that maybe that might be for the best even if it pains him to leave so much unsaid. Theseus wants to make sure that Newt knows it was no fault of his own, but finds himself unable to so much as pick up a pen in the following days.

He thinks, given the purpose of the trip, that it has backfired monumentally.

 

Theseus is busy enough that the whole debacle sits at the back of his mind for the better part of two weeks, only coming to the fore at rather inconvenient times like when he’s trying his hardest to get to sleep. Tossing and turning nightly, he finds himself spending an extra couple of minutes each morning trying to find a spell that will go some way to concealing the now-ever-present bags beneath his eyes.

On the twelfth day, however, he walks into his office that he shares with a fellow trainee two years his junior, a female alpha, only to find a familiar tawny owl perched upon his desk. A letter is clenched firmly in her beak.

Approaching the desk with his coat now folded over his arm, he can’t help the smile that begins to tug at the corner of his mouth. “Hello, Penelope. Long time no see.”

Just as always, Penelope refuses to part with the letter until Theseus presents her with a treat, the trading of goods like some kind of stand-off. Finally satisfied, the owl squawks her greeting before taking flight once again, leaving him staring at the letter in his hand. Addressed to him in his brother’s handwriting.

So used has he gotten to the lack of communication, that he automatically assumes something terrible has happened, dreading opening it to find that he couldn’t have been more wrong. Newt writes to him as if Theseus had imagined that there was ever any sort of tension between them. In fact, his letter is almost half a foot longer than his previous record, filling him in on everything that had transpired since they’ve last seen each other; apparently, Dumbledore has made good on his promise, as Newt even encloses a photo of a jet black baby niffler, who appears to be sniffing a galleon as he triumphantly cradles it in his arms.

His heart melts at the sight, and without a second thought, Theseus conjures a frame around it, clearing it some space on his desk. Sitting down, he finishes reading the rest of the letter before automatically picking up a quill and some parchment to compose his reply.

 _‘Brother,’_ he scrawls, the scratching of the nib amplified in the otherwise silent room, _‘I am seriously considering another trip home, as I fear you may have confounded our poor mother. If not, your persuasion skills are a lot more advanced that I had thought…’_

Before he even realises it, he’s written just as much, if not a little bit more than Newt has, signing off warmly and requesting regular updates on the descent into madness that would inevitably befall their mother when the thing started nicking all her good spoons. Penelope, who obviously hadn’t expected so swift a reply, is long gone at that stage, so Theseus seals the letter before making a quick trip down to the owlery, giving it instead to Persephone, beautiful barn owl that had taken a shine to him on his very first day as a Ministry employee.

Content, he settles back into his chair, the stack of paperwork no longer feeling so daunting.

 

After Newt’s reply comes a day later, they fall back into an easy habit of corresponding at least every other say. Except it’s not exactly the same as it was before. No, Newt is usually one for playing his cards close to his chest, but in his most recent letters he hasn’t been able to say enough. So much so that Theseus begins to wonder whether he has finally settled into himself, now that he has more of a sense of who he is.

It’s another fortnight before Newt suggests that he come home again, for longer this time. To say Theseus is surprised by the request is an understatement but, finding no good reason to say no, he ends up retreating to his childhood home for the weekend, for the second time in as many months. Before that, he’d scarcely been twice in six months.

Work finished for the day, he decides to take the floo from the Ministry instead of apparating, though he almost wants to go back where he came from when he steps out into the living room to what could only be described as pandemonium.

The niffler, though still adorably small, is hanging from the glass chandelier that has been in their family for the better part of a hundred years, making a desperate attempt at detaching one of the crystals.

“Newton Scamander, you better catch that thing before I-“ Eleanora doesn’t finish that sentence as, with a roll of his eyes, Theseus walks directly over and plucks the tiny creature from where it is dangling, his height an advantage that neither his mother nor his brother (yet) have.

“Both of you seem to have forgotten that you can, in fact, use magic,” he chuckles when the niffler lets out an unimpressed squeak at having its plans foiled, looking up at him with eyes so wounded that they might as well have belonged to Newt himself. “Hello, little fella,” Theseus can’t help but smile, stretching out a finger to stroke its fuzzy belly, which it responds favourably to until he gets too close to its pouch and tries to escape again. Catching him just in time, he passes him off to Newt.

The younger man accepts his new pet with a wide smile, cradling it in his arms as if it were a newborn pup. Theseus doesn’t think he can ever remember seeing him so happy. “This is your uncle, Theseus. He’s the one who owns that shiny gold badge you’re so fond of.”

His smile drops immediately. “I beg your pardon? You better not be referring to my head boy badge…”

Newt’s smile is nothing short of menacing, even as he raises an eyebrow in playful confusion. “You mean the one you were supposed to give back after graduation?”

Caught, Theseus splutters momentarily, mouth opening and closing aimlessly as his cheeks turn a rather telling shade of pink. “No one ever gives them back! It’s very commonly acknowledged!”

“Don’t worry,” Eleanora laughs, standing up on her tip-toes to place a kiss on her eldest’s cheek, “it’s stored away very safely. Besides, they’re just hoarders. They’re not going to eat it.”

“I suppose that’s why you were shrieking when I arrived then.”

“Remember what I used to say, love? _Do as I say, not-_ “

“As I do. I remember.”

“That’s the one. Tea?”

“Yes, please,” both Scamander boys answer in unison, fixing their mother with innocent smiles that exclusively belonged to men who should be able to do something as making a cup of tea for themselves already.

While Eleanora makes her way to the kitchen, Newt gestures for his brother to follow him with a brief incline of his head before making in the direction of the stairs. Theseus immediately follows him up and into his brother’s bedroom, which really hasn’t changed at all since the last time he’d seen it, save for the little enclosure that now sat in the corner. Pulling the small gate-like door open, Newt gently deposits the niffler into its bed made of appropriated bits and pieces of clothing, nestled amongst a mound of coins and equally shiny things. Content but tired, it gives a little stretch before curling up in a ball in its nest, clutching a sickle against its chest as it drifts off to sleep.

Theseus watches Newt watch his new friend for a moment, completely enthralled and unable to keep from smiling to himself at the look of complete adoration on his little brother’s face. He doesn’t think he can remember ever seeing Newt so happy, even though the little creature was nothing short of a menace, making him wonder what he will be like as a mother to his own pups. Despite what he may have insinuated before, Theseus knows of no one as instinctively maternal as his brother, who mothers anything and everything he can find.

The thought refuses to budge from his mind, so he shakes his head in attempt to rid himself of it, eyebrows pulling together in a frown.

He doesn’t have much of an opportunity to dwell on it, as Newt presses his index finger firmly against his lips, taking Theseus by the forearm and guiding him back down the stairs again.

“Congratulations,” he says, when he’s sure Newt won’t kill him for talking and waking up the baby/niffler, “He looks just like you, you know.” His gentle teasing earns him a half-hearted glare in return, but he isn’t quite done yet. Just as Eleanora is placing the tray of cups and teapot down on the table, Theseus asks ‘how does it feel to be a grandmother, mother?’

“I might be able to tell you, if you ever decided to get your act together.”

That is something he would very much prefer not to address, and so he feigns offence. “How is it you’re only ever nice to him?”

“Because he doesn’t bring it on himself-“ at Theseus’ incredulous expression and Newt’s red cheeks, she laughs, soft and bell-like, “Well, at least not _intentionally_.”

 

It’s undeniably nice to be home, especially when he knows that he doesn’t have to run back to London straight away, giving him time to relax that he can scarcely remember having since moving to the capital after leaving Hogwarts. Instead, he preferred to spend his days putting in as many hours at work as he could manage, hoping that it would stand to him going forward and having not much else to be doing anyway.

After dinner, he and Newt once again make the trek down to the hippogriffs to feed them and make sure they’re all okay. Thankfully this time returning without any kind of trouble haven broken out between them. Theseus is seriously considering moving back home, as they have another cup of tea after that, relaxing in the main parlour before their mother retires to bed, leaving the two brothers sitting on opposite sides of the long, overstuffed couch.

Though the remain in comfortable silence for a while, Theseus senses danger of some kind coming when Newt chuckles softly to himself, eyes fixed on the floor.

“What is it?”

“It’s nothing, just… wondering if your London friends would ever be able to picture you as a farm boy.”

His eyes narrow. “We have hippogriffs, that doesn’t exactly make a farm.”

“Oh, Thes… you shouldn’t worry so much about what other people think.”

“I don’t,” he replies, tone sharper than he intends, but he’s not entirely sure that it isn’t the truth. It doesn’t matter anyway, as no more is said on the matter when their half-kneazle, Edward, pads softly across the floor and Newt beckons him over until the feline jumps up and curls itself into a ball in his lap.

Though he tries best, Theseus can take it no longer. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Newt asks, not even looking up.

“For forgiving me. I’m not sure I deserve it.”

Frowning momentarily, it doesn’t take the younger man long to catch on to what he’s saying, looking up with wide green eyes and pink cheeks. “There’s nothing to forgive. I- I was confused but the more I thought about, the more I realised that it’s a good thing. It shows you care,” he smiles, “and what more can I want?”

Of all the responses he could have expected, that certainly isn’t one of them, and he turns to look at his younger brother so quickly that his neck cracks, crease forming between his brows. “Of course I care, Newt. But it’s dangerous to excuse someone’s behaviour because it makes you feel like they care.”

“I know that, but you’re my-“ Newt’s mouth snaps shut, and he finds himself having to look anywhere but at Theseus, “you’re my brother. I know you didn’t mean anything by it. You wouldn’t hurt me.”

In the end, the younger man finishes with a smile. But Theseus isn’t entirely reassured.

 

When he comes down the next morning, after a rather restless night’s sleep, Theseus is sure that his bleary eyes are deceiving him when he sees his brother eating porridge at the table… wearing one of his old quidditch jumpers. His first thought is why, and his second that perhaps the niffler’s thieving tendencies were rubbing off on Newt.

Although they were in the same house at Hogwarts, he _knows_ it doesn’t belong to Newt because, one, it’s much too big and, two, Newt has never played quidditch a day in his life.

“It’s only a pity that you cared to wear that to, you know, actually support me,” Theseus mumbles, not sure of what else to say as he rubs the sleep from his eyes. In fact, he thinks that it probably looks better on his little brother anyway. Gold was always so much more Newt’s colour than his. His gaze lingers on the younger man, even as he pours himself a glass of pumpkin juice.

Shockingly, Newt doesn’t even blush as he looks down, tugging at the collar. “It’s warm, and you know how cold I get. Especially at night.”

Poor, unsuspecting Theseus almost inhales half of his juice, some coming out his nose. “You wear it in _bed_?”

“Yes, it’s comfy.”

He’s just beginning to think that his brother isn’t in fact his brother, but someone masquerading as his brother when their mother comes through the back door, wordlessly pointing her wand at herself to dry off, her hair going from sopping to bone dry in less than two seconds.

“Morning. Looks like an inside day today.”

Theseus says nothing, he can’t, because he’s really not sure that he’s not still dreaming. It feels like something odd is happening, like he’s somehow falling a little bit behind. He feels like that a lot these days, because his meek, little brother who would rather keep the company of creatures than people, was now noticeably emboldened.

And apparently wore his quidditch top to bed.

It isn’t until he goes back into work on Monday and his colleague asks, eyes wide with delight, who his omega is that the pieces begin to fall into place and Theseus is struck by the need to sit down, having a weakness of some kind.

“Theseus? Are you okay?”

He wants to say yes, but he categorically isn’t. Because he’s fairly certain that Newt, his omega little brother, has his sights set on him.

And he thinks that may he his own doing.


	3. Walk 'til You Run (And Don't Look Back)

Theseus is about as useful as a chocolate teapot for the remainder of the day.

Thoughts of Newt, his little brother, go around and around his head, tormenting him, yes, but worst of all intriguing him. No matter that his brain may say otherwise, his inner alpha purrs at the thought of Newt- beautiful and soft and loving Newt- willingly presenting himself to Theseus, wanting to be claimed.

And he would do it, if his brother asked. He might very well be able to fight it for a little while but if he had, as he suspects, already marked Newt as his, eventually his baser instincts will take over. If he’s perfectly honest, that day near the woods all those weeks ago now signal something that Theseus had very much tried to ignore, passing it off as being merely affected by his brother’s fresh omega scent.

But of course it can’t be that simple. Of course his body wants nothing more than for him to descend into an inevitable downward spiral of self-loathing.

No matter how Theseus tries to dress it up, it’s wrong. It feels so wrong. Not only because Newt is his _brother_ \- and no matter what anyone says about purebloods being purebloods, he still considers it loathsome- but also, Newt is _fifteen_ , not even yet of age. And his body was now suddenly asserting his desire to… well…

But now that Theseus has had this epiphany, he wants to. And he can’t help it, can’t help that ache that settles in the pit of his stomach when he thinks about how Newt would likely go along with anything he says, do anything he wants…

He thinks he’s going to cry, because it’s just not fair. Although Theseus has always loved being an alpha, he now finds himself resenting his biology just as his brother had done when he first presented. A soulmate of sorts is a wonderful concept, but certainly not when that soulmate is apparently one’s own flesh and blood. The thought alone makes him feel sick as much as it turns him on.

His only hope, and it may just be his salvation, is their mother realising what’s happening before Theseus has to see him next, picking up on subtle hints that he himself has been so oblivious to. If she has any inclination that Newt might be thinking about his older brother as a potential mate, she will allow them nowhere near each other, and that will suit Theseus perfectly fine. If this is the mate his alpha has chosen, then he doesn’t want one. End of story.

Except it’s never really that simple, is it?

 

If there was any doubt before, Newts letter the following day, signing off with a mournful ‘I miss you’ puts an end to that. It’s horrible and indelicate, he knows, but Theseus lets it go unanswered, tucking it into a drawer along with all the other letters he’d received from his brother and telling himself that it’s in both of their best interests. Because the truth is Theseus misses him too, longs for his soothing presence a lot more that he rightfully should.

Yes, he stashes the letter- innocent but also condemning as can be- away and hopes that by doing so it will be pushed to the back of his mind as well.

Of course, it isn’t.

It’s nothing short of torture; Theseus’ mood goes from pleasant to bad to worse, until many of his colleagues start avoiding the usually charming former head boy entirely, be it in the corridors or in meetings. Only his superiors, who have recently enough began both routinely bringing him out in the field and into the interrogation room with them, are delighted with this new Theseus Scamander as apparently his sullen face is quite intimidating. The rumours start to fly, some plausible while some are downright ridiculous (apparently, ‘he’s been Albus Dumbledore’s concubine for a number of years now, but has recently been jilted by the Hogwarts professor in favour of a charismatic German Wizard. Poor guy…’ ‘But Scamander is an alpha?’ ‘Yes, but Dumbledore is a beta…’). For the most part, Theseus tries to ignore them, since they are all incredibly- and thankfully- far from the truth but he’s lost count of the amount of glares he’s given out to idle busybodies in the past couple of days.

 

When he has his rut two weeks later, Newt has finally stopped sending letters altogether and Theseus does something he would never otherwise do: he finds someone in a pub and takes them home with him. This one is particularly bad, the worst he’s had, and he knows that if he’s doesn’t bury his frustrations in someone, he’s going to lose his mind entirely.

(He grits his teeth at the thought of his own body trying to manipulate him into seeking out his true omega.)

His bedfellow is a male beta (Dumbledore, he thinks sardonically, being otherwise engaged) with jet black hair and eyes so brown that they might as well be black and Theseus knows that he’s probably a bit too rough on the guy, but it certainly helps in getting his frustrations out, if even for a little while. Although he doesn’t knot, because there’s no biological reason for him to as it would be impossible for him to get a pup or more on a male beta, it’s still highly satisfying and he genuinely wishes his partner well before showing him the door. Alpha’s aren’t exactly known for cuddling with someone they haven’t already claimed, or at least intend to, so the guy doesn’t seem terribly upset. As insensitive as it may sound, Theseus isn’t in much of a headspace to care anyway.

Maria, his office mate, looks at him strangely when he arrives for work the next morning, unfamiliar scent still lingering even after he’d bathed. She says nothing, however. It’s not her place and, to be frank, Theseus Scamander appears as if he has a lot more to worry him.

 

A couple of days later, he’s called away to Scotland to aid in the investigation of the disappearance of an elderly man, who just so happens to be in possession of a rather sizeable fortune. Unfortunately for the chap, they find a body. But they also find the killer, who had been dull enough to return to the scene of the crime in the midst of a full-scale murder investigation. Soon after, they raid the guy’s house, entirely unsurprised to find a large volume of almost perfectly brewed Polyjuice potion.

With the case all wrapped up, it’s back to London again, at least with the satisfaction of having a couple of senior colleagues take notice of him and his bourgeoning skills as an auror.

“Good job,” his immediate superior, Clement Bones, claps him on the back when they finally come through the floo at the Ministry, eerily quiet with all other staff long since gone home. “Now get yourself some sleep and I don’t want to see you tomorrow.”

It’s the worst gift he could have possibly been given, but Theseus nods and forces a smile anyway, giving his boss the sincerest thanks that he can manage.

“You’ll be fully certified soon,” Bones assures him, before bidding all those present farewell and disappearing in the direction of his office. Theseus thinks about staying too, but he really is exhausted and would much rather fall asleep at home in his bed than at his desk.

When he stumbles into the dark of his small apartment a couple of minutes later, he is both relieved by and afraid of the silence. Sighing, tense and aching shoulders slumping wearily, he scrubs at his tired eyes, a couple of stray tears trickling down the side of his face when he yawns. Theseus knows the place well enough by now that he doesn’t cast a lumos on the way to his bedroom.

But he almost jumps a foot into the air when someone else does it for him.

Wand drawn and ready to be used in any way necessary, the auror in training wonders why the wards that he has so very carefully and painstakingly put up haven’t alerted him to the presence of an intruder, until he sees the face behind the glow.

“ _Newton Artemis Fido Scamander,_ what in the name of _Merlin_ are you doing?”

Expecting his little brother to at least look sheepish, having effectively broken into his apartment, he’s taken completely off-guard when the younger man scowls, eyes narrowed dangerously, and jabs him hard in the chest with his wand instead. “I could ask you the same question. Where have you _been_?”

“At work, you lunatic! I hadn’t known to expect anyone, so forgive me for not being here.”

The wand pokes him a little harder this time. “Do not call me a lunatic when I thought you were _dead_.”

It’s enough to make Theseus stop completely, hands dropping to his sides as he hears his brother’s soft sniffles for the first time. Something clenches in the pit of his stomach and, without thinking, he pulls Newt into his arms. “Oh, Newt…” The younger man melts against him, and now Theseus can really feel the sobs that were shaking Newt’s slender, delicate frame. Brushing a hand through soft, copper hair in attempt to soothe him, Theseus lets his eyes close as he releases a breath that he hadn’t even known he had been holding, a sense of calm washing over him. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…”

“You never wrote back.”

Yes, and now he feels like the biggest bastard to have ever lived. “I’m sorry.”

“You keep saying that.”

Once again, Theseus opens his mouth to speak but is caught completely off-guard when Newt’s eyes meet his, barely giving him a chance to react before his little brother reaches up on his tip-toes and presses his lips against Theseus’. For a brief moment, he’s so shocked that he might as well be a mere bystander, and that allows Newt enough time to test the kiss that bit more, soft lips parting in a way that is so warm and inviting that Theseus can’t help but kiss him back.

And it feels so good.

Every inch of his body seems to slowly catch fire, burning hot before smouldering away, warming him to his very core as he wraps his arms around Newt’s waist and pulls him as close to him as humanly possible. Newt fits him so perfectly, so much so that it’s a miracle Theseus never noticed before. Having given in to his omega entirely, he growls when Newt pulls his lips away, the sound dying in his throat when the younger man turns his attentions instead to the hollow of Theseus’ jaw, exploring the stubbled skin until his lips came to rest on that all-important spot. The spot that meant everything.

“Claim me.”

The words alone are enough to dump a metaphorical bucket of ice cold water over him, and it’s only then that Theseus realises what he’s just done. Pushing his brother firmly away, he steps back until there’s a safe distance between them, stretching his arm out as a buffer when Newt, undeterred, steps towards him again. “No. We can’t do this.”

But Newt isn’t one bit ashamed. “Yes, we can. Easily.”

“ _No_ , we can’t. It’s wrong.”

He almost expects Newt to roll his eyes, but he doesn’t. More surprisingly, he smiles, completely self-assured, and reaches out to take his brother’s hand. Theseus reluctantly lets him have it. “I’m _yours_ , Theseus. I’m your omega and I know you can feel it. I’ve spent so long thinking about that day… You reacted like that because my pups- well, they’re _your_ pups.”

Closing his eyes tight as he can, Theseus tries to breathe through it but his body reacts involuntarily to the thought of putting his pups in Newt. It only makes him feel worse. “Stop,” he begs, and means it with every inch of his being.

“Why should I? Why should we? We didn’t exactly choose this, Thes. _Biology_ wants us to be together.”

“You’re fifteen, Newt!” the older man suddenly explodes, having had more than he can take of this sensory overload, “And, even worse than that, you’re my _brother_. My own flesh and blood. It’s wrong.”

“We’re-“

“Don’t you dare say ‘purebloods’. That is not an excuse to shack up with your own brother. What- what would mum say?”

It’s so hard to look at him like this, when his eyes are so bright and wide. “I’m sure she would understand that there’s a reason we’re like this. I want my alpha- I _need_ my alpha,” Newt’s eyebrows raise mischievously, “And by the scent of things, you’re at the tail end of your rut. I’m right here for the taking, for you to knot.”

Merlin, he actually experiences physical, excruciating pain when Newt says that, covering his face with his hands so as to avoid his brother’s sinful gaze. Theseus can’t help but find himself longing for the days when Newt had no idea what sex even was. Never mind wanting to do it with _him_. “No. Absolutely not.”

“You know, I genuinely have no idea what your plan with this is. What are you going to do? Pick a random mate? Another,” his little brother wrinkles his nose in disgust at the smell that still lingers, “another _beta_? Should I do that too? At least they could still give _me_ pups, unlike _yours_.”

It was becoming very difficult to contain the anger that was bubbling inside of him. “You’re not being fair. And I thought you didn’t want pups,” he reminds him, not bothering to mask the bitterness that creeps into his voice.

Newt’s eyes widen in disbelief, and he wants nothing more than to hit his brother over the head, hard and repeatedly. “I want _your_ pups, you turnip! Yours and yours alone.”

For a moment, Theseus seriously contemplates turning around and going back to work, because- for all his education and training- he has no idea how to deal with this. His self-control definitely has its bounds and he’s terrified that if Newt keeps pushing like this, he might just give in. And that can’t happen, no matter how he aches for it. “You know I can’t do this, Newt,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “So I think it’s best if you go back home, for now.”

“Please,” the younger man’s face softens, green eyes burning with an intensity that Theseus can scarcely remember seeing in them, “Can I stay? Just for one night? I- I haven’t slept…”

For a moment, he hates his brother. Only not really. He hates those eyes, so full of affection for him. He hates those full lips, so inviting…

But most of all, he hates the way Newt knows every last inch of his heart and soul, without Theseus ever letting him. He can’t send him away, not like this, and so he does something he knows he’ll come to regret entirely with time: he acquiesces.

“Fine. _Fine_. But you better keep your hands to yourself or I’ll be sleeping at the Ministry.”

Unsurprisingly, Newt promises wholeheartedly, grinning as he takes advantage of Theseus’ moment of weakness by wrapping himself around his brother, head coming to rest against the older man’s chest. Reluctantly, Theseus wraps his arms around him too, eyes wearily closing as he rubbed small patterns on Newt’s back.

In the flat’s only bed that night, Newt sleeps like a baby, still wrapped around his brother like a limpet.

Theseus doesn’t sleep at all.

Not for one minute.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Stay this time, stay tonight in a lie_   
>  _Ever after, is a long time_   
>  _And if you save your love, save it all..._   
>  _Don't push me too far, don't push me too far_   
>  _Tonight_


	4. Head Over Feet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are absolutely incredible. I love you all so much! ♥
> 
> I hope this one isn't disappointing compared to the last! 
> 
> Also... Just in case anyone is interested, I always have a playlist for each fic I write that I listen to while writing and [this](https://open.spotify.com/user/avza1shad5lhecraqp9125wn4/playlist/0bJDGPORtQyHyzSVIa8y9R?si=Jw3rvk8fQj6BL_yE3aFj6g) is the one I'm using for this fic!

Theseus has never been so thankful that it had been the early hours of the morning when he’d returned from work; it only meant less hours to spend in the same bed as Newt, who has very little concept of personal space when he’s asleep, apparently. Worst of all, it doesn’t feel entirely wrong to be with him like that, which only makes the situation less comfortable.

Casting a tempus charm as soon as there’s enough light creeping in through that little bit of space between the edge of the curtain and the wall, Theseus can’t help the sigh of relief that escapes him when it shows that they are no more than twenty minutes away from the time that he usually gets up for work.

His brother doesn’t need to know that, however…

Extracting himself as gently as he can possibly manage, lip bitten in concentration, Theseus slowly sneaks out from beneath the duvet, afraid to make any sudden movements lest he wake Newt. He almost makes it too, until he gets too complacent and forgets about that one creaky floorboard a foot or two away from the bed. Instinctively, his eyes squeeze shut and he curses internally when he hears the rustling of sheets behind him.

“Thes?” the scratchy voices says, “Where are you going?”

He has no choice but to turn and tries to smile as best he can, completely unprepared for the fact that it becomes one hundred percent genuine when he sees the younger man, still bleary-eyed with his curls sticking out in each and every direction. _My mate_. “I have to go to work, but you should go back to sleep. It looks like you need it…”

Rubbing at his eyes, Newt nods at that before smiling blissfully when his brother leans over and places a chaste kiss against his forehead. “Okay. Please be careful.”

“Always am.”

As awful as it makes him feel, he really hopes Newt won’t be there when he gets back.

 

Knowing that, technically, he’s not even supposed to be working today and had been explicitly told to stay away, the auror in training tries to slip under the radar as best he can when he finally enters the Ministry. He keeps his head down until he eventually makes it to his office, unsurprisingly ahead of Maria given his hasty departure. Unsure as to whether the sigh that escapes him is one of relief or resignation, Theseus uses his folded arms as a pillow and rests his head against the desk.

He’s in trouble, that much is abundantly clear. If his alpha and Newt’s omega have acknowledged a mutual bond of some kind, then he’s well and truly done for. Their bodies would continue to push them together until something finally gives, which it eventually will. If that is the case, and he strongly fears it is, then realistically the best Theseus can hope for is to hold out long enough for Newt to become of age.

Even then, it’s little consolation.

Bitterly, he wonders how their mother could have just let a fifteen year old run off to London like that, when technically he’s still not allowed to do magic, before he it strikes him that she might not even know. With another sigh, Theseus lifts his head again, grabbing a scrap of parchment and his favourite quill.

_Mother,_

_If you should find yourself missing a son, rest assured that he is safe and currently taking over my flat. You might confirm when you can that the niffler is still at home, or else I might need to do an inventory._

_Love always,_

_Your favourite son_

Unfortunately, a trip to the owlery is required to send the message and, with a huff, Theseus leaves his office and heads in that direction, his plan to lay low for the day already not working out. But it isn’t something that can be helped; he would rather his mother didn’t have the aurors out looking for his brother.

That sent once again with Persephone, Theseus returns to his hiding place, his colleagues having afforded him a wide berth as has become custom lately. It suits him just fine. On the home stretch, he rounds the corner and stops in his tracks when he sees Bones sitting behind his desk, twirling the quill Theseus had just been using between his fingers as he chats to Maria, who looks remotely uncomfortable.

As he looks up at the young man, Bones doesn’t look one bit surprised.

“Scamander, I specifically remember telling you that I didn’t want to see you today.”

“You did, sir. But to be perfectly honest, I need to be here so, if you would allow me to stay, it would be wonderful.”

Frowning, Bones leans back in his chair. “Any why should I? You look like you haven’t gotten an hour’s sleep and it’s been a difficult couple of days. That’s how mistakes happen.”

Theseus looks to Maria in search of support of some kind, but finds that she’s trying her best to stay out of this as she’s currently reading a guide to the new dwelling legislation rather enthusiastically… and upside down. _Typical Ravenclaw._ “Please, sir. There’s…” his cheeks turn scarlet, “there’s someone I would much rather not see at my flat.”

“Your flat.”

“Yes, sir.”

Bones simply blinks, the situation so absurd that he thinks someone must be having him on. No one in the world, wizarding or muggle, hated having time off as Theseus Scamander. No one. “And who might that be?”

There is no one simple answer to that, so Theseus goes for the one that will likely- and ironically- prompt the least amount of uncomfortable questions. “My omega, sir.”

Maria splutters into her tea, while his boss looks at him as if he’s lost the plot entirely. To be fair, he’s probably not wrong…

“Your omega? I can’t see why you would be avoiding your _mate_. Although,” Bones muses, momentarily far away, “on second thoughts, when my wife was pregnant with our pups, there were times when-“

Theseus almost chokes. “Oh Merlin no, we’re not… _pregnant_. Thankfully. It’s just complicated and if I stayed at home I might have ended up doing something I regretted and so I think it’s better for everyone if I stay here. Respectfully.”

Bones, mercifully, looks as if he would rather hear no more and reluctantly rolls his eyes. “Young love. It’s not exactly something you should be running away from, Scamander, but you do whatever pleases you. Maybe take a couple of minutes of a snooze for yourself, at least. I won’t have my men skulking about like the walking dead.”

Letting out a sigh of relief, Theseus ensures him that he will try his very best to do just that, reclaiming his seat when the older man leaves with just a curt goodbye to the both of them. He summons the stack of files that he has been putting off dealing with for some time now, realising only after a couple of minutes that his colleague is watching him with, head cocked and curious smile tugging at her mouth.  “What?” he asks, squirming self-consciously.

“How much younger?”

“I beg your pardon?”

Maria’s eyebrows raised, seeing right through him. “Your omega, how much younger are they? My brother was thirty when he happened across his omega for the first time. She was sixteen and, well, he was beside himself. I’ve seen that look of terror before.” Theseus says nothing. “You’re what, 21? I can’t imagine it would be that bad.”

“That may be the case, but there’s a little more than age at play here.”

“Aha!” the young woman, practically fresh out of Hogwarts, grins triumphantly at him from across the room. “So I was right! How old?”

There is absolutely no reason why he should answer that one. It’s none of her business, and they both know as much. Still, Theseus does anyway. “Fifteen.”

“So they don’t understand why you won’t just claim them now?”

“They don’t understand that I _can’t_. He- _they_ just don’t know what it means yet. If I claim them, then they can never choose another mate if they change their mind. And I… I’d rather not have them deal with what everyone else will inevitably say.”

“But if you feel it as much as they do then it’s your biology and, I’m sorry to say, there’s no escaping that.”

Theseus groans. It’s not at all what he wants to hear and he wearily hangs his head, studying the individual knots in his rich mahogany desk. “I knew them before they presented, and I’m worried that the pre-existing emotional connection may be clouding their judgement… as well as mine.” Shame floods him once again, but when he gathers the courage to finally look up again, he sees that Maria, instead of being disgusted, looks entirely sympathetic to his case.

“It happens, Theseus. Quite often, at that. You shouldn’t be ashamed of something so natural. When you… when you breed him you will be doing a wonderful thing, bringing a pup into a loving relationship. It’s all anyone can ask for.”

Yes, well Theseus doesn’t exactly see it that way.

“It doesn’t _feel_ natural.”

 

By the time late afternoon comes, he’s so tired that he decides, come what may, he must go home. At this point, Newt could be parading around his flat entirely naked and he would probably still pass him by in favour of his bed. Still, he would very much rather not test that one…

His exiting of the Ministry earns him a couple of curious glances, but it’s likely because he looks like he’s going to drop any minute now, eyes tired and red and usually perfect hair all over the place. Theseus thanks Merlin for the existence of magic, because he’s standing in his apartment in less than two minutes, the smell of fresh bread hitting his nose and waking him up considerably.

Despite the obvious interest his empty stomach takes, he can’t help but groan. Newt is still here. Deciding he has to take the erumpent by the horn, Theseus rounds the corner, softly clearing his throat when he spots his little brother, bent over with his head dangerously close to the oven. He instinctively wants to pull him away, protect him, but doesn’t need to as Newt startles at the sound, almost hitting his head in the process of straightening up.

Wordlessly, the closes the oven door once again with a flick of his wand, eyes lighting up when he finally turns and lays eyes on his alpha. In a couple of large steps, he’s standing in front of Theseus, more than close enough to pull him down into a kiss. The older man allows it, but is very glad when it remains short and chaste.

The scene is surprisingly domestic, and Theseus finds himself wondering if this is what life has in store for him- for _them_ \- in the future.

“I didn’t think you would be back this early.”

“Nor did I, but I’m not very much use to anyone at the moment.”

Newt smiles so brightly that it lights up the entire room. “You’re always useful to me. Were you in contact with mum? She sent me a howler…” a slight blush creeps across his cheeks, though he looks far from apologetic.

It’s not entirely surprising. Theseus isn’t sure that he wouldn’t do the same. “I had to make sure she knew that you were with me- that you were safe. You shouldn’t have just run off like that.”

“I had to. I had to make sure that my alpha was okay.”

Paling, Theseus prays for this nightmare to end. “Please tell me that you didn’t tell her that I’m your alpha. Or that you have one.”

“Of course I didn’t,” Newt says as if it were completely obvious, “I feel that’s a conversation best had in person.”

He really doesn’t want to have this conversation now; he’s dog tired and wants nothing more than to just fall into bed, but he doesn’t know how long exactly he’s going to sleep for and he quickly deems it for the best to get this conversation out of the way first. Lest anyone get any ideas… Sighing, Theseus scrubs at the stubble that has begun to appear on his chin. “If you have decided that you want me as your mate, there are some things that we are going to have to agree on.”

Newt practically vibrates with happiness, and he wastes no time in assuring his brother that he will do anything he asks.

“First of all, this stays between us for the time being. Mother can’t know-“

“But-“

“No, Newt. That’s non-negotiable. If you truly want us to be together, no one else knows for now.”

“Fine,” the younger man concedes, though his mouth twists into some kind of cross between a pout and a grimace, “What else is there?”

Theseus hesitates for a moment, fearing that might be the least controversial of the lot. “Second is that I need to know when you’re in heat,” he cringes when Newt looks positively jubilant rather than being disappointed by that, and quickly continues, “because I can’t be around you when you are.”

“ _What?_ Thes, that is the _entire reason_ we are the way we are! An alpha is supposed to take care of his omega when they’re in heat, not stay as far away from them as possible.”

“That condition leads into the third and final one: I will not claim you or otherwise mate with you until you’re seventeen.”

Naturally, that one goes down like a lead balloon. “Are you mad? Is it your intention to drive us both to distraction?”

“No, it’s my intention to not feel like a predator, to not take advantage of a fifteen year old.”

“It’s not taking advantage if I want it as much as you do, _Theseus_. And I’m not just someone you picked up out of nowhere; I’m your _mate_.”

He had thought this might be difficult, but excruciating is probably a better way to describe it. Newt is essentially fighting for sex with him, and Theseus keeps reminding himself over and over why he’s saying no. “And you’ll still be my mate, isn’t knowing that enough? I’ll give you whatever you want, Newt. Anything,” he says, and means it more than he’s ever meant anything in his life, “But I can’t sleep with you until you’re seventeen.”

Sensing that this is a battle that is lost today, Newt relents, albeit entirely reluctantly. It’s not without frustration, and he groans while he hangs his head in defeat. “You know I love you and your integrity, Thes, but there are times when I wish you had more Slytherin in you.”

He doesn’t know why, but Theseus finds that absolutely hilarious, eyes crinkling with mirth as he cups his brother’s face and kisses the top of his head.

“In two years we’ll be together?”

“A year and a half,” Theseus corrects, “And yes, however you like. I promise.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _You already won me over, in spite of me_   
>  _So don't be alarmed if I fall head over feet_   
>  _Don't be surprised if I love you for all that you are_   
>  _I couldn't help it, it's all your fault_


	5. Castle on the Hill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you as always ♥ You keep me going with this!

The Christmas before Newt turns sixteen, Theseus makes sure to request some extra time off work, which is granted without question as usually he has to be forced to take time off. It suits him just fine this time, as he wants very much to enjoy an extended break with Newt. Even if it is under the watchful eye of their mother…

As far as they can tell, Eleanora doesn’t suspect a thing. Although Newt was making it his business these days to visit London at least every couple of weeks, Theseus has avoided returning home so that, if she does suspect something, she might deem it a harmless, one-sided crush. Spending over a week at home might present another challenge entirely, but they know that it’s something they will just have to get used to. He can’t exactly avoid his mother forever.

So, bag packed for his stay, Theseus apparates to the back door of the house, smile already engulfing his face. Christmas has always been his favourite time of the year, something about it making him feel warm despite the chill in the air, but this year feels extra special. Despite his enduring self-flagellation, Theseus doesn’t think that he’s ever been happier.

“Hello?” A frown begins to take the place of his smile when he steps inside and is met overwhelming silence, “Anyone home?”

Somewhat hilariously, Edward the half-kneazle is the only one who immediately comes to greet him, slinking over in his direction and letting out what Theseus assumes to be a miaow of welcome before disappearing once again. It’s underwhelming to say the least, and he finds himself pouting when he realises that Newt must not be there; otherwise, he’s sure that his brother would have jumped on him the second he crossed the threshold.

The sound of his bag hitting the floor when he drops it next to the door, now feeling rather deflated, echoes around the empty downstairs and Theseus doesn’t linger before going in search of some non-feline company. When he finds none, he rather labels it a rather dismal started to the holidays- he could have been alone in his flat and it would have made no difference whatsoever.

Where is his mate? It’s been well over a month since he’s last seen Newt and his patience is beginning to wear thin.

Just as he’s contemplating that, his earns almost perk up like a dog’s when he hears the sound of the back door opening once again, the distinctive sound of his mother tutting disapprovingly carrying all the way through to the front room. Pout replaced with a grin, grateful that he hasn’t in fact been abandoned, Theseus wastes no time in rushing to meet her, stopping in his tracks only when he notices the large, mud-caked object that she’s carrying in her yellow-gloved hands.

“Theseus!” she startles, drawing a deep breath, “you scared the wits out of me. How long have you been here?”

“Just a couple of minutes,” he says, watching on with curiosity as she summons a piece of the Prophet and lays the item down on top of it, “I was beginning to think that you might have gone elsewhere for Christmas.”

After vanishing her gloves, Eleanora makes her way in his direction to place a rather forceful kiss against his cheek. “Absolute nonsense. We’ve been waiting for you.”

“It seems like not all of all of you. Would you mind telling me what in the name of Merlin that is?”

“ _That_ , it would appear, is a rather old artefact. From the Bronze Age, one would assume.”

“Oh, is that all?” he raises an eyebrow sardonically, “That’s fine then, I suppose. Certainly doesn’t warrant any further discussion or questions. Has Newt decided to try his hand at archaeology?”

“He might as well have. The niffler was suspiciously missing and when I went outside to have a look the poor thing was weighed down. Be careful, though. We now have a rather deep hole in the garden…”

It’s a story that probably requires more explanation, but Theseus doesn’t really care to ask for it. “And where’s Newt?”

“I forgot to get some cream for the trifle earlier, so I sent him into town to fetch some. Which reminds me…” Theseus braces himself, not liking the sound of that one bit. “I was rather hoping that you might have a word with him. I know that you two are finally at an age where you can be friends of sorts, as well as brothers.”

If only she knew… “Has something happened?” Feeling sick to his stomach all of a sudden, Theseus doesn’t feel one bit reassured by the ominous ‘not yet’ she gives him in reply. He urges her to continue, trying his best to feign nonchalance.

“Dumbledore has mentioned Newt and his affinity for creatures strange and wonderful to a nice beta woman in Pembroke-“

It’s enough to cause Theseus to shut down completely, stomach twisting into such a knot that he can barely stand the pain. No, absolutely not. There is no way that he is going to stand by and allow them to marry Newt off to some beta in Wales. He’ll rip someone’s throat out before he allows that to happen. Newt is _his_ mate. _His_. And if anyone else even contemplates laying a hand on him…

“Theseus? Theseus?”

Despite his overwhelming urge to growl at his own mother, he manages to compose himself just enough, clearing his throat. “Apologies, I found myself a bit lost in thought for a moment there,” his jaw clenches, vein in his forehead bulging, “a beta you say? Shouldn’t Newt have a say in this himself?”

“Ideally,” she tuts, clearly unsuspecting, “but one would have to be exceedingly foolish to think that he won’t go.”

Oh, Theseus very much thinks not. “He won’t go.”

“Of course he will, Theseus. It’s- he _believes_ it’s his dream.”

“His _dream_ is to marry a Welsh beta?”

Eleanora’s eyes widen comically, mouth opening and closing several times before she bursts out laughing, green eyes crinkling. “Who said anything about marrying the woman? I daresay he’ll be more interested in the dragons than anything she might have between her legs…”

“What on _earth_ are you talking about, mother?”

“You obviously haven’t been listening to a word I’ve said, so I’ll repeat for the sake of clarity. This woman- happily married, I’m told- wants Newt to come work with her. Apparently, Dumbledore has given him a glowing recommendation. Old fool probably still feels guilty.”

Theseus laughs, and then laughs some more until he can hardly breathe, relief flooding every single cell of his body. “That’s wonderful, truly. I’m sure Newt will be beside himself.”

He doesn’t think he’s ever seen his mother look so betrayed. “Are you mad? He’s not going, of course.”

“Why not? It’s a perfect fit as far as I can see.” And, though he mentions no such thing, Pembroke is still close enough to London that they’ll be able to see each other often enough. It’s much better than the potential alternative of Newt travelling off to Europe in search of the same thing. Anything that keeps his mate in Britain is perfectly okay with Theseus. At least for the time being.

Newt can come and go as he pleases, and their dear old mother will be none the wiser.

“Do you know how Dumbledore describes this woman? A magizoologist,” Eleanora wrinkles her nose in distaste, shaking her head free of the thought, “No, he’s going to join the Ministry like his big brother.”

Trying his very best not to smirk, Theseus wonders if she would be so keen if she knew of the true nature of her sons’ relationship. Then she would probably be more than happy to have him sent off to some far part of the globe, doing whatever he pleased that didn’t involve giving himself to his brother. “But it’s what he wants to do. He loves it and it makes him happy.”

“Don’t tell me you support him in this?” She looks genuinely surprised, and Theseus is somewhat unnerved to see more of his own cynicism rather than Newt’s optimism in her. He’d always thought that the Scamander siblings had been cleanly divided- Theseus like their father, pragmatic, and Newt very much like their mother. “All of this is the reason he’s no longer in Hogwarts.”

“I must confess myself rather confused. Where on earth do you think all of this came from? He didn’t exactly lick it off the ground... And you know as well as I that _that_ wasn’t his fault. He took the fall for her.”

Eleanora casts her eldest a scathing look, completely ignoring that first bit. “Yes, but it’s his sentimentality that caused it. Sometimes I wish he were more like you. Merlin knows that you’ve always had your head screwed on properly.”

Anger beginning to steadily bubble inside him, Theseus opens his mouth to give his honest opinion about that one but is, thankfully, kept from saying something he will probably regret by the sound of the door opening, accompanied by a sudden chill. Theseus feels even warmer, tension draining from him like an antidote undoing to effects of a poison. Turning away from his mother entirely, he grins when he lays eyes on Newt, cheeks rosy and a light dusting of snow in his curly, copper hair.

“Theseus.”

“Little brother,” how he longs for the day when he can call him more, striding over to where the younger man is still hovering by the door and pulling him into a bone-crushing hug. Newt still feigns discomfort at the gesture, but his hand, balled in material of the back of Theseus’ coat, says otherwise. “Miss me?”

“It hasn’t been long enough since we’ve last seen each other to miss you.”

He knows that it’s far from the truth, can tell from the way Newt’s breath catches ever so slightly when Theseus smiles at him. How he still wonders at the fact that he can affect someone so, with one simple gesture. “Then I suppose I’ll have to remember that the next time you show up uninvited at my flat.”

“I- What is that?” Face contorting, he cocks his head to examine the monstrosity that is currently perched on the table, afraid to get too close.

“Probably best if you don’t ask,” Theseus assures him, laughing, as he claps and hand on the younger man’s shoulder, “Shall we take a walk?”

“Outside? But it’s freezing!”

A simple flick of a wand and a warming charm fixes that one, and Newt no longer has a leg to stand on. Eleanora says nothing, her smile somewhat forced, but she fixes her eldest with a warning look out of the corner of her eye. Still, it does little to discourage him and Newt reluctantly follows his older brother back outside again, shoulders hunching as he shoves his hands deep into his pockets.

“What’s going on?”

“Not now,” Theseus says simply.

They go as far as the woods on the other side of the property this time, as it’s scarcely visible from the house, both treading through the couple of inches of powdery snow. There’s something so satisfying about ruining the previously unblemished surface, feeling the crunch beneath one’s shoes… When they’re far enough out of sight, Newt reaches for Theseus’ hand and the older man willingly allows him to have, having missed his touch a lot more than he would care to admit.

“What did I miss?”

It shouldn’t surprise him that he noticed the tension. “You know that my first allegiance is to you, don’t you?”

“Theseus… what’s going on?” Newt tugs on his arm and Theseus turns without hesitation, smiling when he sees the look of terror on his mate’s face.

“It’s nothing to worry about, I promise you. But there’s something you need to know, something mother would rather you didn’t know at all. As your mate, however, I can’t and don’t want to keep it from you.”

“What is it?”

“You mustn’t tell her I told you. I daresay she expects that’s what I’m doing at this very moment.”

“ _Theseus_.”

All right, then. “Dumbledore has plans for you, it seems. He thinks you should go to Wales.”

“Wales?” Newts faces scrunches up in confusion, “Why in the name of Merlin would he think I should go to Wales?”

Toeing at particularly perfect mound of snow, Theseus can’t help the grin that slowly spreads across his face. This one is going to be good… “What might be indigenous to Wales, Newt?”

“No,” he half mumbles, shaking his head to himself. “No Way.”

“Yes.”

It takes a moment for those words to really sink in, but when they do Newt laughs, harder and lighter than Theseus has ever heard him before. His joy spreading infectiously, Theseus gets so caught up in it himself that he wraps his arms around his brother, lifting him completely off the ground and spinning him around.

“Dragons,” Newt whispers, after the older man kisses him hard on the lips, “Merlin’s beard. Wait- what did mum say?”

Well, that dampens things ever so slightly… “She doesn’t want you to go. She’d rather you come work with me at the Ministry. But, as much as I would love that, I know that you would be miserable and I want you to be happy. Always.”

“But what if she doesn’t change her mind? What is she to do then?”

“It doesn’t matter what she thinks. She can’t keep you here and if she kicks you out- well, that works even better,” Theseus shrugs, though the younger man doesn’t look so amused, “Mum may not like it, but at the end of the day it doesn’t matter. In little over a year you’ll be seventeen, and we’ll be together. I’m the only one who gets to have an opinion about what you do, and I think you should do whatever you want. Within reason, of course…”

“But what if she disowns me? What if she’s that serious?” He knows it’s probably not a laughing matter, but Theseus really cannot help it. He laughs, in that bent over, stomach clutching way, which doesn’t amuse Newt one bit. “Theseus!”

“Sorry! I was just imagining what it would be like if she did disown you. ‘Sorry you feel that way, Mum, but it might soften the blow a bit. Meet your new son-in-law…’”

Though he tries very hard not to, Newt snorts at the thought. That certainly would be something, even if it’s not anything he ever wants to experience. “Seriously, Thes… You want me to go? Even if it means we can’t see each other all the time?”

Smiling, Theseus reaches out to cup Newt’s cheek, thumb brushing across the pale, freckled skin. He loves the blush that creeps up in its wake, so much so that he finds himself biting his lip as he contemplates just how used to all this he is getting, how much his opinion has changed. “We have the rest of our lives to be together, Newt. It’s only right that you should live a little before then.”

 

Once they return to the house, things very much go back to normal. Or, rather, what their mother perceives as normal. Newt gives no indication that he knows anything about Dumbledore or Wales and Theseus is beginning to wonder if his mate is destined for the big screen, especially when he goes from all but living in his alpha’s pocket to treating him with courteous detachment so quickly that it leaves the older man blinking in mild confusion. In the end, he’s thankful for Newt’s acting skills. It only makes his own life easier.

All the politics of the youngest Scamander’s future aside, it’s shaping up to be a rather wonderful Christmas. Perhaps the best, Theseus muses, since their father’s untimely passing three years ago and he can honestly say, for the first time since leaving Hogwarts, that he’s one hundred percent happy. He’s found his mate _and_ developed the relationship he’s always wanted with his brother, even if in both cases he’s gotten a lot more than he’s bargained for...

While the snow continues to fall outside, they remain nice and cosy, fire constantly crackling as they chat and read and joke while nursing a hot cup of tea before retiring to bed whenever they wanted. Almost invariably, Eleanora is the first to go, which leads to some cuddling on the couch and Theseus is not at all surprised when Newt sneaks into his room in the middle of the night. Although he lets out a huff at the intrusion, he grabs his wand off the nightstand and transfigures his single temporarily into a sizeable double, too tired to even smile when Newt climbs in and gets to work on stealing as much of his body heat as he possibly can.

When he wakes up in the morning to find him gone again, Theseus very much wishes he could stay.

It’s blissful, and a part of Theseus wants to stay like this for the rest of his life; away from all responsibility and before the inevitable change that Newt turning seventeen will bring.

Or at least it was blissful, until Eleanora announced one morning after Christmas itself that they are invited to ring in 1914 in the company of someone neither Scamander brother could have ever imagined…

Corvus Lestrange.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I'm on my way, I still remember_   
>  _Those old country lanes_   
>  _When we did not know the answers._


	6. Blindsided

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not entirely sure of this one as I was very tired when I was typing it up and I'm not sure I hit the mark but you might let me know what you think... ;)

Theseus growls the words leave his mother’s mouth.

The Lestrange name has scarcely been mentioned in their house since the incident that resulted in Newt’s expulsion, and for good reason too. His first instinct is to look to his brother who merely blinks, withdrawing into himself so quickly that Theseus fears that all the progress he’s made might have just been undone. All for someone who isn’t even worth the time of day.

“You can’t be serious. Why on earth would anyone willingly spend time with _Corvus Lestrange_?”

“He has connections,” Eleanora explains, and Theseus is seriously worried that she can’t see what might be wrong here. But surely she couldn’t be that obtuse, and so he begins to fear that there is something she’s keeping from him, from them. “You would do well to make some for yourself, Theseus, if you ever hope to become a Minister… or _the_ Minister.”

He can’t say that he has no such ambitions, but he knows for sure what they do not involve. “I’ll make any that don’t mean entertaining a sociopath who hates his own daughter so much that he finds any excuse he can not to look at her. That is not the kind of person I want as a friend.”

His mother only smiles knowingly, and it enrages him even more, especially when she reaches out to stroke his cheek. “You’re so wonderfully Hufflepuff, Theseus, but you might do well to have a little bit more Slytherin in you once in a while. You’re the change the wizarding community of this country needs, but that’s not going to happen without paying your dues and laying the foundations now. You need to get yourself noticed first, and then go from there. Corvus Lestrange can help you with that-“

Her appeals are drowned out by the sound of the chair scraping against the tiles of the kitchen floor and, before anyone can say a word, Theseus is gone, back door slamming shut behind him. His magic seems to spark within him as he seethes, wondering why on earth- of all people- she had to pick the one who hurt his mate, the one who probably worked so hard to ensure that Leta didn’t get expelled so that he couldn’t put off dealing with her, at least for a little while longer.

Though it’s so unlike him, Theseus can barely see straight with the anger, and without a second’s hesitation he sends a curse at the nearest tree, watching it topple over and land in the snow with a dull thud that reverberates through the ground beneath him.

It isn’t until he hears high-pitched indignant squeaking that Theseus realises that he’s just made a big mistake. Because that isn’t just any tree, the five tiny figures hissing and sticking their tongues out him remind him of that much. His stomach twists with regret, tears of fear and frustration beginning to cloud his vision as he crouches down and reaches a hand out to the little colony of bowtruckles, a hand that he finds pulled back just as soon as he’s moved it.

“Theseus! Are you mad? They’ll attack you! And I must confess that I’m quite the fan of your nose as and where it is.”

It only makes him feel even worse, especially when he watches Newt collect all his still-protesting beings. “I’m sorry, Newt. I’m so sorry, I didn’t realise-“

“It’s okay,” the younger man assures him, soft smile tugging as the corners of his mouth as the bowtruckles begin to clamber all over him, “there are more trees of wand quality around the place. Just don’t go around cursing down any more. They shan’t thank you for that. Go to him,” Newt gently urges one of his little friends, who doesn’t want to seem to budge, not that Theseus can exactly blame him, “Go on, he’s mine. He won’t intentionally hurt you. In fact, I daresay he can be quite gentle when he wants to be.”

Rubbing at his eyes, Theseus can’t help the laugh that escapes him at that, watching in awe as the little guy relents and tentatively steps from Newt’s hand onto the older man’s shoulder. It’s truly amazing; how Newt can manage to charm all these creatures that are usually so wary of humans and, not for the first time, he finds himself thankful that his brother has not an evil bone in his body, or else he could very easily have the wizarding world- and beyond- at his feet.

No, instead of using them for his benefit, his Newt prefers to befriend them. To protect them. Just like Theseus was trying to do for him. “Hello, little guy. I really am sorry about that tree of yours.” For a moment, the bowtruckle watches him, still wary, before apparently reluctantly forgiving him. Testing the waters, it uses Theseus’ ear as leverage to pull itself up into his curls.

Though Newt watches with satisfaction, his smile grows grave. “You didn’t have to do that for me.”

“Do what?”

“Fight with mum. I made a mistake, and I have to deal with it.”

Though Theseus’ jaw clenches, he’s forced to remain calm so that the green thing on his head doesn’t decide to attack him. “It wasn’t _your_ mistake. I don’t know what she’s playing at, to be perfectly honest, but I don’t expect that it’s anything good. I- I just don’t understand why she’s being like this all of a sudden.”

“She wants the best, for us both. We don’t have to agree with her idea of what that is, though.”

Yes, he’s entirely sure their ideas aren’t going to match up. Weary, Theseus sighs. “I’ll go, but you’re to stay here. I don’t want you anywhere near those people, any of them.”

“If you’re going, I’m going.”

“There’s nothing there for you, Newt. Nothing but painful memories. Spare yourself, and if not spare me from having to watch you revisit them.”

Crouching down to where his brother was still hunched in the snow, Newt feigns offering a hand to Mildred to brush a hand through Theseus’ soft curls. “It’s just a party, Thes. We’re not at war with anyone… what’s the worst that can happen?”

“Don’t count your chickens, little brother. You never know what these people really want. I should know, I deal with them on a daily basis.”

“It can’t be that bad if mum’s okay with it. She’s not like them, you know that. So please let me come. I’ll be miserable here without you anyway, so I might as we be miserable there instead. I’ll stay by your side the entire night, if that’s what you want. Whatever you want so long as we’re together.”

With another sigh, Theseus shakes his head and the bowtruckle finally decides to jump ship, back into the waiting arms of its mummy. Newt grins, cooing at the little thing, and the sight does very strange things to him. Suddenly, he longs for the day when he can get a pup- his pup- on Newt, so that he can see his mate like this with their child.

“The minute you want to leave, we’ll leave.”

The younger man smiles, but it’s not exactly the victory he’s used to, rather like turkeys voting for Christmas. Still, Newt knows well that this is something he’s going to have to get used to if he wants to be with Theseus, to be his husband. These are the kind of circles that he moves in. And if the night is a success, maybe his brother will see how much he’s matured? That he’s really ready emotionally to take on a virtually unbreakable bond. “Thank you.”

“Just so we’re clear,” Theseus takes the hand offered to him with a frustrated huff, “I’m not at all happy about this. I can think of a million things I would rather do than any great length of time with Corvus Lestrange of my own volition. Mum should know that.”

“I’d wagers she does… you just chopped down one of her favourite trees.”

 

Battle lost, Theseus sulks for the entire day and a half before the party, preferring to stay out of his mother’s way. She doesn’t approach him, and he’s happy about that. Rather immaturely, he doesn’t start getting ready for this… _party_ until the very last minute, leaving Eleanora tutting as she and Newt are forced to wait on him. Theseus doesn’t really care. Pulling on his suit and fixing his tie, he feels about as much festive joy as someone preparing for a funeral.

But, being a man, getting dressed can only take so long and so, much sooner than he would have hoped, Theseus finds himself joining his mother and brother by the floo downstairs.

“Shall we?”

Eleanora doesn’t bother masking her glare at her eldest. “You do know it’s the height of rudeness to be late?”

He only just resists telling her that’s exactly the point. “Apologies, I lost track of time.” Turning to exchange a knowing look with his brother, he quickly finds the air knocked out of his lungs when he sees just how dashing the younger man looks in his finest, unruly hair almost completely tamed and green tie bringing out the colour of his eyes beautifully. Merlin, Theseus thinks, he’s been missing out here.

“Well don’t you just clean up wonderfully. Who would have thought?”

Newt blushes, because of course he does, eyes immediately seeking out the floor. “Thank you. You look quite dashing yourself.”

“Even more so now that you’ve finally deigned to crack a smile. Now come, if we delay any longer we might as well not bother turning up at all.”

Catching sight of Newt’s discreet smirk, he can tell they are thinking the very same thing: if only…

The eldest of the Scamander boys is sent through first, likely to limit the chance of him skipping out altogether, while Newt steps through a moment later, brushing himself down as he makes way for their mother. Leta had never really spoke of her childhood home, having no good reason to, and yet it’s exactly how has imagined: grand, and cold.

Certainly befitting the man himself.

With the greatest of satisfaction, Theseus notes the slight chill that runs through Eleanora when she, too, steps out of the floor, looking rather disappointed for the briefest of moments before her an easy going smile spreads across her face once again.

“Madam Eleanora and young masters,” a rather old house elf appears seemingly out of nowhere, causing Newt to cringe when it bows to them, “You are most welcome to the noble house of Lestrange. I is Dolly and I is being serving you tonight.”

Newt’s mouth instantly opens, as if his first instinct is to befriend the thing, and Theseus can’t help but laugh when he reluctantly shuts it once again, probably deciding that it wasn’t the time. He links his arm with his mother’s, though he would much rather take Newt’s instead, and they follow the elf down the dimly lit corridor. The house is eerily silent until they finally reach what appears to be the ballroom, at which point lively conversation reaches their ears.

It is, of course, impressive. But Theseus would still rather be anywhere else in the world, feeling almost pained as they filter in amongst the other guests and he recognises no one he actually knows, much less likes. His mood breaks somewhat, when he catches the eye of someone whom he hadn’t at all been expecting to see.

“Scamander!” Bones grins, the sound like music to Theseus ears, excusing himself from his current company to come shake his trainee’s hand, “I hadn’t expected to see you here/”

“I hadn’t expected to be here. May I introduce my mother, Eleanora? Mother, this is Auror Bones.”

“Clement, please,” he greets her warmly, and Theseus doesn’t believe for one minute that it’s feigned, “It’s a pleasure to meet the woman responsible for such a talented son.”

Eleanora practically glows at his praise, looking to her eldest as if to say ‘see?’ “It’s very kind of you to say. I have no doubt that he’s going to do our family very proud,” she squeezes Theseus’ arm, grinning, “I wonder if you have met my youngest, Newt? He has taken to spending quite a bit of time in London with his big brother lately.”

On the face of it, it’s a rather innocuous statement. But Theseus still feels as if the bottom has fallen out of his stomach and, though it’s his first instinct, he just about manages to avoid looking at Newt, not wanting to see how his younger brother has dealt with that one. “Newt hasn’t been to the Ministry, mum.”

Curiously observing his protégé for the briefest of moment, Bones extends his hand to greet the youngest of the group, and likely one of the youngest guests in attendance. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Newt. Your brother speaks very highly of you.”

It’s a lie, since Theseus usually avoids mentioning his brother like the plague as the skills of deduction of his colleagues are far too advanced to risk it, but the bashful smile that spreads across Newt’s face is completely worth it. Smiling proudly, he places a hand on Newt’s shoulder. They continue to chat easily for a little while, and both boys are beginning to wonder if maybe they hadn’t been entirely correct in their assumptions of how the night would go.

That is until, however, the man of the moment decides to make an appearance.

Chewing on the inside of his cheek, it’s all Theseus can do to keep from openly glaring at the balding master of the house as he reaches for his mother’s hand, bringing it to his lips. “My dear Eleanora, I am so pleased that you could join us tonight.”

“Thank you very much for having us.”

“It’s my great pleasure, I can assure you. And what fine handsome sons you have, too,” his heady eyes fall immediately on Theseus, who is past beginning to have a bad feeling about this and is thinking more about damage limitation, “Corvus Lestrange.”

It takes every ounce of self-control he possesses not to hex the man on the spot, instead of grasping his clammy hand. “Pleasure.”

“I see you’ve already met my dear friend, Clement Bones.”

“We have,” the auror confirms, but his expression doesn’t exactly indicate that they are as close as Lestrange would like to think, much to Theseus’ relief. He had thought his boss a decent man, after all. “Theseus is one of my lot. One of the more promising ones, too. Never seen a work ethic like his.”

“Just doing my job.”

Lestrange looks only too pleased by this turn of events. “Well, you know what they say: to be the best, one must learn from the best.” For the first time, his attention turns to Newt, almost as an afterthought. “And you, boy? Shall you be following in your brother’s footsteps?”

“I very much doubt it,” Newt says quietly, but self-assured, “You see I never got my NEWT in advanced potions. Or any other class, for that matter.”

So surprised is he by that little barbed comment, though he’s sure that it seems innocent enough to anyone who isn’t him or his mother, that Theseus has to cough to keep from laughing. He’s indescribably proud of his mate for not lying down for the man who almost certainly played a part in his expulsion.

“Yes,” Lestrange’s expression darkens somewhat, showing more of his true nature, “rather unfortunate business that was. But where there’s a will, there’s a way.”

Feeling as if she is quickly losing control of the situation, Eleanora decides to act quickly, before one of them took the opportunity to completely disgrace her. “Corvus, isn’t there someone you thought Theseus should meet?”

“Ah, but of course. The reason we are all here, no?”

He doesn’t like this, not one bit. Feeling rather ill all of a sudden, Theseus looks to his mother, only to find that she is resolutely refusing to meet his eye. Newt looks equally as confused and wary as he, while, entirely uncomfortable, Bones’ gaze lingers on the two brothers before he politely excuses himself.

“Dolly!” Lestrange summons his elf, who appears without delay.

“Yes, Master?”

“You may go fetch her now.”

Though he’s not entirely sure what’s about to happen, the urge to flee cripples him, because it surely can’t mean anything good. Not when his mother can’t even look at him. Neither Scamander boy has any inkling as to what is actually transpiring here, and Theseus wishes that he could reassure Newt that everything is fine when he looks at his older brother with wide, imploring eyes.

Both however, practically stop breathing when they finally lay eyes on the person to whom he had been referring, anger flooding one and desperation filling the other. Someone neither in a million years would have expected to see here tonight…

Leta Lestrange.

“So,” she drawls, looking admittedly immaculate in her peacock coloured dress although insolence seeps from her with every step she takes, almost as large as life as her _dear old_ father, “I hear we are to be married.”


End file.
